


Right hand left out

by Wiebelwiebel



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Body Horror, Body Image, Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking & Talking, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Ghoul feels, Ghouls, Give the ghoul a hug, Hancock is a closet sap, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Injury, Insecurity, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Wow Look At All These Tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:32:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5639365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiebelwiebel/pseuds/Wiebelwiebel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an encounter with a Deathclaw, Hancock is left a little worse for wear. This leads to frustration which in turn leads to the sole survivor deciding to come the rescue in a rather unusual way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Antistar

**Author's Note:**

> No proof-reader, unfortunately. Please excuse any mistakes made.
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading! *bows*

The hulking beast fell down with a thundering roar and a cloud of dust. A spray of arterial blood painted the dry earth red. It clawed at the ground in a fruitless attempt to get up. It roared again, softer this time. It's eyes locked with those of it's vanquisher, who stared back in acknowledgment. It managed to heave itself up on its arms; trembling and terrible. Blue suited and silent the human reloaded his magnum for the final shot to put the Deathclaw out of its misery. The creature sighed though bloody teeth as a shot rang and the bullet found its home in its skull. The beast collapsed; dead and defeated.

The sole survivor turned away from the scene, not feeling up to butchering the corpse for any meat. He limped towards his bag he'd thrown away during the Deathclaw's sudden attack. Battered and bruised, he searched his kit for his med-supplies. He was just a little banged up – some cuts, messed up leg, loads of bruises. Nothing a good stimpack couldn't fix. He was more worried about his companion, who'd taken the brunt of the attack.

Nate grabbed the supplies he thought he needed and proceeded to hobble his way towards the crater where he'd seen his friend collapse. The Deathclaw had picked up the ghoul viciously and maimed him bloody – then tossing him to the ground like so much garbage. But Hancock was tough, the vault dweller told himself to keep panic from rising, he could take much more than one Deathclaw could dish out.

Laying in a puddle of his own blood, Hancock was out for the count but breathing. Nate knelt near the wounded man and did a quick visual survey. Deep lacerations on chest and stomach which were still bleeding sluggishly. Bruised where the creature had grabbed him. But his right arm was in the worst condition – obviously broken in multiple places; white bone sticking out through leathery skin. He would've preferred to stimpack the mayor while he was still unconscious so he wouldn't notice any pain, but the compound fracture made this impossible. The bone would have to be set in order to knit together correctly.

A human would've died from the wounds Hancock had sustained. Thank god that ghouls were made of sturdier material; the slower heartbeat and sub-par circulation meant much less bleeding. Tougher, scar-like skin meant the lacerations weren't too deep. Better healing than an average human, too.

Nate searched his med-kit for two syringes of Med-X. That was another thing about ghoul physiology: medicine didn't work nearly as good on them as it would on humans. That's why Hancock could go around and huff Jet like nobody's business and still function almost normally. It just didn't affect him that much. Unfortunately, that also meant that the anesthetic effect of the Med-X was less effective.

Gently the sole survivor took Hancock's left arm and rolled up his sleeve. He tapped the ghoul's arm in search of a suitable vein and lined up the syringe. Around the second shot, Hancock stirred.

“Hmm, are you shooting me up with something good there?” He croaked, still half out of it.

“Something like that,” Nate replied as he began to search for something to help him set Hancock's arm, “you're in pretty bad shape so try to keep still.”

The mayor blinked and seemed to slowly regain his faculties. He grimaced as he looked at his arm, “Hey man, I don't think it's supposed to bend that way.”

“No shit.” Nate grabbed Hancock's right hand and wrist while setting his boot on the side of the ghoul's chest. “This is going to hurt.”

Hancock didn't even get time to reply as the sole survivor pulled hard. A with a sickening crack and squelch, the bone was realigned. The sound was partially drowned out by the mayor's yelled curses.

Nate grabbed some cloth and sticks and set about binding the arm to keep the bone in place.

“Ow, ow, ow. Jesus Christ! Atom! Ow, be gentle! I'm very delicate!”

“Yes, you're a delicate wilting flower Hancock, I know. Almost done.”

“Shit, I really need a stiff drink after this, ow! Or maybe something that'll knock me out good. Fuck!” Hancock complained.

“Of course. As soon as we get back to Sanctuary I'll get you some good stuff.” Nate went along for now, even though he wasn't a fan of some of Hancock's vices, it was his life and his choice. “Time for those stimpacks.”

The ghoul breathed shallowly and managed a semi-smile. “Aw, you spoil me.”

After the first stimpack, the wounds on his chest and belly began to knit. After the second, the flesh of his arm began to close as well. The vault dweller studied the arm and touched it carefully.

“Does that hurt?”

Hancock twitched. “Still hurts like a bitch but I've had worst. I'll live.”

Nate prodded and poked the ghoul a bit more until he was satisfied that Hancock was really okay. Still a bit bruised and battered, but he would be fine within a few days. The arm would take a little longer; stimpacks could only do so much. He made a sling out of cloth for Hancock to rest his arm in.

“Wanna head back?” Nate asked as he stimmed himself.

“After we get a souvenir of the bastard that beat me up in the first place. Where is that sonofabitch?”

Nate pointed to where the Deathclaw lay. Hancock flicked out his trusty knife. Left-handed would take some time but he'd manage.

 

* * *

 

It was one week later since their encounter with the Deathclaw and although Hancock's health increased with each passing day, his mood got darker and darker as those days progressed. His arm was still in a sling and rather sore, but Curie was sure that within a few days it would be as if the attack had never happened.

It was strange to see Hancock in such a bad mood for such a long period of time. Usually, he liked being in Sanctuary with the others – lounging about while chatting with Nick or teasing Danse, gossiping with Piper, you name it. He was always out and about, active and social – that was Hancock down to a T... or so Nate thought.

Not this time, though.

He was grumpy and snarly and avoided all contact.

After a week of this, the vault dweller and his companions were starting to get worried. So, Nate decided to do what friends did and get to the bottom of the ghoul's horrible mood. He invited Hancock to his house for a drink – to which Hancock had grudgingly agreed.

Hancock walked towards the sole survivor's open door when the sun was about to set. Crimson light filled the sky and painted the little town in gossamer shades. It was really quite lovely. Not that Hancock gave a fuck.

Nate sat on a large sofa he'd build a while ago, nursing a flask of whiskey. Hancock plopped down next to him and gestured towards the bottle. Nate handed it over and the ghoul took a large swallow. As the burning liquid slid down his throat, his jet black eyes sough those of the other man.

“So...”

The sole survivor simply looked back, relaxed. “So...”

Hancock took another swallow. “So… are you gonna tell me why I'm here?” His gravelly voice sounded even more guttural now that it was laced with irritation.

Nate shrugged and motioned towards the bottle, which was handed to him. “Can't a guy invite his friend over for a drink?” He asked as he took a sip.

The mayor narrowed his eyes, “'Course he can. But I'm sensing 'n ulterior motive here.”

“Maybe I do,” another sip, “and maybe I don't.”

“You know, I'm not into this bullshit right now,” Hancock growled, “either you tell me why I'm here or I'm out.” He grabbed the bottle out of Nate's hand and took a gulp.

Nate took in the mayor's form. The sling was still in place and his clothes were fixed and clean. It was just that the man was almost quivering with pent-up anger; body radiating tension like a string pulled tight.

The human sighed. “I'm worried about you, okay. You haven't been yourself lately.”

“What, you think I'm going feral on ya?” The ghoul almost snarled.

“Of course not! But something's clearly troubling you and it worries me. I want to help.”

Hancock barked out a self-deceptive laugh. “You can't help me with this, trust me.”

“Why not?”

“You just can't. Don't worry, I'll be fine in a few days or something.”

Unfortunately, the sole survivor decided to use his charisma on him and damn him, how could he withstand that beaten puppy look?! “Please, Hancock. I just want to help you. Whatever it is, it's clearly bothering you and I don't want you to weather it alone. We're friends, right?”

Hancock couldn't look away. Couldn't deflect the question. He could only take another large swallow of the cheap whiskey and sigh. “It's stupid, okay? You'll laugh.”

Nate shook his head vehemently. “Try me.”

“Fine,” the mayor deflated and gestured towards his bandaged right arm, “so I can't use my right arm, yeah? Gettin' better 'n shit but still needs a few days. Hurts like hell if I try to use that arm now.”

“Okay, I get that.”

“And I'm not a good lefty. Can't do fuck all with my left hand.”

Nate nodded, waiting for the big reveal.

Hancock looked away, took another swallow of the booze and sighed again. “So I can't get off.”

The vault dweller blinked owlishly. “Sorry, what?”

“I can't rub one off,” the ghoul nearly growled, “you know, wax the pole? Adjust the antenna? Defeating the Deathclaw? Knocking one out? Have a good wank?” He refused to look Nate in the eye. “Bad circulation doesn't help, either,” he grumbled as an afterthought.

“So you're having this terrible mood because you're sexually frustrated?!”

“…Yes. Good job making it sound even more moronic.”

Nate blew out a breath he didn't know he was holding. “Oh, thank god.”

Now it was Hancock's turn to blink stupidly. “You're glad I'm sexually frustrated?” A tiny smile curled on his lips, “Now that's just cruel, man.”

The human chuckled, “No, I'm just glad it's not something really bad. I was worried.”

“Hm, sorry 'bout that.” Hancock smirked, “Didn't know I was that bad.”

“Dude, I think that Danse almost ran away screaming like a girl when he saw you yesterday.”

“Filthy liar. Anyway, all will be fine in a few days when my arm's all good again.”

“Don't the chems help?”

The ghoul gave a bitter laugh. “I'd be high as a kite now, if that were the case.” He shook his head. “Naw, Mentats just make me more aware of how fucking frustrated I am, Jet would just prolong this crap. Don't even get me started on Psycho... 'n Buffout, well… let's just say I like my dick better when it's firmly attached to my body.”

Nate snickered and plucked the bottle out of Hancock's grasp, getting pleasantly buzzed but not too much. “Y'know...” he said while sipping, “I _could_ help you with your problem...”

The ghoul took the bottle back. “No more drinks for you, you're starting to talk shit.”

The sole survivor looked at the mayor. “I'm not drunk and I'm serious. Could be nice, you know.”

“Bull. This mug ain't the worst of me. You don't want to see this wreckage of a body. Never wish that on anyone I cared for. So don't...”

Nate shushed him. “I'm not going to lie to you, you're not be the prettiest face in the Commonwealth but it's not that bad! Got nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, I really, really like you.”

“Gee, thanks… I think?

Nate gave a lopsided grin. “You're welcome. So, want me to give you _a hand_?”

Hancock groaned. “Not if you're going to spout terrible puns like that.”

The sole survivor scooted closer to Hancock on the couch – close but not yet in his personal space – and took the now half empty bottle again. Everything was entirely relaxed about him. No pressure, no nerves, nothing. Just comfortable in his friend's presence. He took a sip again. “Well, are you in? Maybe do a bit more then just getting you off? I think it'll be great.”

Hancock eyed him as if he just grew a second head. “You're really out of your mind. Who'd do the dirty with a ghoul like me? It's all rotten flesh and scars. You'll regret it the moment I take my shirt off. You'd be better off taking that offer back and forget all about it. I'll manage.”

Now Nate scooted in Hancock's personal space until his face was mere inches away. He looked mildly annoyed. “Hey, you're just the way I like. Screw anyone who makes you feel ashamed. You shouldn't feel ashamed.”

Hancock said nothing and merely stared, unsure what to do – which didn't happen often unless he was together with this strange, unpredictable human.

“So?” Nate asked.

“…So?” Hancock echoed.

“Wanna try?”

“You're really serious about this, huh? Okay then. But don't go complaining once you realize ghouls just ain’t your thing.”

Nate got up and grabbed Hancock's left arm to haul him to his feet. “For a guy who's all big words and mayoral business you sure are insecure. Don't worry so much – it's just me. Tell me you don't want this and I'll back off.”

Hancock looked at the hand encircling his wrist. “Oh, I want,” He mumbled more to himself then to the sole survivor, “You have no idea how much I want...”

The human gave a bright smile and began tugging the ghoul towards the bedroom. “Don't worry. It'll be nice.”

Hancock let himself be led and smiled sadly as if waiting for the ax to fall.


	2. Butterfly Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW. Just so you know...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Did I really write all this smut? Oh dear...

They sat on the side of the bed. The vault dweller was relaxed and giddy, leaning back casually and looking at Hancock, who was one ball of nerves and arousal – he was practically vibrating with tension.

“You know,” the ghoul started, “Haven't done anything like this in a while… Sober, anyway.”

Nate smiled brightly. “Me neither. About 211 years or so.”

Hancock snorted. “No shit.”

The sole survivor began to undo the sling the mayor's arm was in. “We'll put it back when we get all of those clothes out of the way. Don't want to make anything worse.”

“Heh, and here I was expecting some kinky stuff...” Hancock said – then groaned a little as the sling came loose and his arm was without support.

Nate put the sling to the side. “You tell me when you don't want something, okay?”

The ghoul eyed him. “I'm into anything. You know me. Just not sure if I should call the whole thing off because you're absolutely piss drunk.”

“Like I said, I'm not drunk. Just pleasantly buzzed. Want me to recite the alphabet backwards to convince you?”

“Naw, that's okay.” Hancock's shoulders sagged minutely. Why was he so nervous? Was it because Nate actually meant much more to him than he'd let show? Because he was partially incapacitated with his arm being useless and all? Or was it because once Nate saw the state of his body, he would surely reject him? Maybe all of the above. Anyway, it made him strangely passive. Oh, he did cooperate when the human carefully divested him from his iconic red coat – he could feel a jolt tenderness in his chest as Nate draped it over a nearby chair almost reverently – but he didn't reach out or take any initiative.

The sole survivor noticed Hancock's lack of participation. “Hey, you okay? Wanna call the whole thing off?” For the first time that night, the smile disappeared from Nate's face and was replaced by a worried frown. “I'm not pressuring you into anything, am I?”

Hancock snorted, “Do you really think you can force me into anything?”

“Not really. But then again, you don't seem to be yourself tonight.”

“'M fine. It's just the arm.” Hancock lied.

Nate gave him an uncertain glance. “Okay...”

He removed the flag that Hancock used as a belt and placed it on the chair. He plucked the tricorn from the mayor's head almost as an afterthought and nestled it into the flag. Hancock felt oddly naked without it. His boots came next.

“Lay back on the bed, if you want.” Nate said after taking off the boots.

Hancock blinked but did as he was asked, scooting back until his head was on the pillow. Nate tossed his boots unceremoniously in the corner of the room and crawled on the bed – and wasn't that a sight. The human in that tight vault-suit crawling over him like a relaxed predator until his knees were astride his hips and his hands were next to his ribs.

“Okay if I sit down?” Nate asked.

Hancock only managed to swallow hard and nod. Was he going to ask permission for everything now?

Nate sat down on the mayor's lap and untucked his white shirt from his trousers. Hancock could only gasp; not only because he had the sole survivor _sitting on his lap_ , which was all kinds of awesome, but also because this was it. Once the human removed this garment, there was no hiding the reality of his disfigurement. The man he cared for would certainly be repulsed by the sight of him. So, he did the only thing he could do: He steeled himself for the inevitable rejection. Well, it was fun while it lasted, right? Those little fantasies and hopes. He'd still have those. They could still remain friends? He could continue admire from afar if he was still allowed in Nate's company. That would be good enough – more than he deserved.

He was jostled from his reverie when two warm hands touched at his sides and slid the shirt upwards over his torso.

“Can you sit up a little? And maybe stretch your arms?”

Hancock obeyed. Stretching his right arm was painful and he gave a soft grunt as the garment was pulled away from his body and tossed towards the chair. He let himself fall back on the bed and closed his eyes. He didn't want to witness the look of disgust on Nate's kind face. He heard a gasp.

“Oh, _John_.” Nate whispered as he took in the body spread out before him.

He looked like a starving human. His ribs were overly pronounced, his waist was too narrow and his arms were too thin – all covered by leathery, damaged skin. His collarbone and sternum stood out from his flesh; yellow bone partly visible where no skin or muscle was present. Hancock's muscles, though still healthy in mass, were blatantly visible with skin pulled too tight. The skin itself was twisted, gnarled and pock-marked. Scar-tissue was everywhere, looking like old third-degree burns healed over too many times. There was no fatty tissue on his arms, leaving his joints too defined. Ropey sinew and twisting blood-vessels were visible at various places.

“Disgusting, isn't it?” Hancock asked, still not opening his eyes; waiting for his friend to recoil in horror and leave.

He didn't expect a hand softly touching him where his heart approximately was.

“How it must've hurt...” He heard Nate say.

Hancock blinked and carefully glanced at the human. There was no disgust in his expression. No, it was more a mix of sorrow, pity and a strange softness he couldn't quite read.

“Huh?” He replied most articulately.

Nate eyes sought his. “The ghoulification. It must've hurt so badly.” He stroked the damaged chest absentmindedly. “I hate to think about what you had to go through, alone.” His eyes looked a little watery.

The sole survivor's empathy never seized to amaze him. “So...” He started, pausing to swallow, “So you're not disgusted?”

Nate looked dumb-folded – as if the thought never even occurred to him. “Disgusted? Never. This is you, John. You could never disgust me.” He gave a crooked grin. “You'll never win a beauty pageant, not gonna lie to you, but disgusting, no.”

And like that, the fear of rejection dissipated; leaving him relieved and boneless. Nate didn't lie or pretty things up but he wasn't repulsed by him either. _He wasn't repulsed_. Karma really was bull – because he didn't deserve this. Not at all. Not that he was going to complain.

“Can I… Does it still hurt?” Nate asked hesitantly.

“You can do anything,” Hancock replied exhaling his relief. He didn't care what the human meant. He could do whatever he wanted. “It doesn't hurt anymore. That was long ago. Old news.”

Although not really unexpected, he still gasped when two warm hands touched his sides and traveled over his ribs. The sole survivor's fingers tenderly followed the furrows in his flesh and the bumps of his bones. He never thought anyone would voluntarily touch him, much less with such care. Like he was worth something. Like he was loved. He melted into the touch and closed his eyes.

Nate noticed the way the mayor arched into his hands, of course, and smiled. This was even nicer than he expected. He wanted to make his friend feel good and maybe act on the feelings he'd harbored for the ghoul for some time now. To see how much just his touch affected the other man, well…

He watched as his own hands slid over the dip of Hancock's stomach. Listened to the tiny sighs and gasps that escaped his friend's lips. He slid one hand upwards over the ghoul's chest, over the stretched skin of his neck and cupped the side of his face. Hancock groaned and leaned into the touch.

There was no thought as the Nate leaned forward, hovering mere inches away from the other man's face.

Hancock felt the moist, warm breath wafting over his lips. He opened his eyes in surprise and managed to say: “Oh?” before the sole survivor's lips touched his ruined ones.

Nate caught the remains of Hancock's bottom lip between his teeth, gently tugging before letting go. He then leaned in a little more and kissed the other man. Hancock could only moan softly and return the kiss. It was warm, wet and tender. The vault dweller licked his way into the ghoul's mouth, teasing and tasting – inviting Hancock to do the same. The other hand, meanwhile, was still caressing every inch of his skin.

“What are you doing to me?” Hancock panted in-between kisses; desperate and needy. His whole body ached for more – until all he could feel, taste and hear was Nate, Nate, Nate. He arched his hips against the human's. Nate moaned against into his mouth.

“Impatient.” The sole survivor mumbled.

“Frustrated, remember?” Hancock replied.

“Do you still have nerve-endings downstairs?” Nate asked.

“Sorry, what?!”

“Nerve-endings. When the radiation got to you, did it affect more then just your skin? Are you still sensitive?”

“Oh. Yeah, still good. Just have crap circulation.”

Nate nodded. “Just takes more time or...” he straightened his finger and then crooked it a little.

Hancock snorted and gave a crooked grin, “I can still get it up, if that's what you're asking. Just needs a little more loving attention.”

The sole survivor answered his grin and scooted down to divest the mayor of his remaining clothes – tossing them towards the chair.

“You know, this ain't really fair.” Hancock mumbled as Nate's eyes roamed over his naked body.

Nate, still entirely dressed, smiled: “I never said I'd play fair.”

The ghoul grumbled something under his breath, trying not to squirm as those piercing eyes saw all of him. His cock twitched… Okay, so maybe it also turned him on a little, too…

Hands came down and rested his pronounced hips; the calloused thumbs caressed the folds of flesh towards his groin. He panted and pressed into the touch, lifting his hips. “Still not fair,” he managed to groan.

The hands left his skin again and he barely contained a whimper.

“Okay,” Nate replied as he stood up, “We'll even the playing field.”

With those words he started to remove his vault-suit. Hancock could only grin and enjoy the view as more and more smooth, healthy skin was revealed. He could see that he wasn't the only one being affected by their little intermezzo – a starting erection was jutting proudly from between Nate's legs. Been a long time that he'd seen any other dick then his own.

The sole survivor, now equally naked, crawled back on the bed and grabbed the sling. “Don't want you to hurt yourself by accident,” he mumbled as explanation as he gestured the mayor to lift his head so he could re-attach the sling, then guided the damaged arm back into it.

Hancock grinned, “What're you planning to do that'd make me hurt myself, then?”

“Don't get ahead of yourself there,” Nate chuckled as he sat back down on the other man's lap.

Warm hands skimmed over Hancock's belly and caressed his sides as Nate bent down to capture his lips again. He gently rolled his hips and muffled the moans that his ministrations caused with deep kisses. The sole survivor only broke away to mumble: “Told you it would be nice.” before silencing any reply Hancock had with another warm and wet kiss.

It was obvious who was in control and the mayor found he actually kinda liked that a lot. He arched against Nate's touch and hips, breathing hard though what remained of his nose and wanting more, more, more. It felt so good.

They kept kissing and rubbing against each other until they lost all sense of time. Only when Hancock was half-hard did the human stop and lean over to grab something from the drawer next to the bed. Some kind of lube, the mayor concluded with half lidded eyes as he continued rubbing himself against the other man – keeping that wonderful friction going. It wasn't strange then that he gave a frustrated whine when Nate moved away and situated himself between his legs.

Nate gave a wicked smile as he rubbed some of the lube between his hands to warm it. “Don't worry, I'll make it better soon.”

Hancock grinned back, still breathing hard. “What're you going to do, then?”

“What do you want?”

“Anything and everything, love.”

The word had slipped out before he could catch himself. Fuck. He just unwittingly handed his heart on a platter. Hancock held his breath for a brief but tense moment as he saw the vault dweller smile soften into something tender. Then the human surged forward and kissed him fiercely, smearing lube everywhere and making a general mess of things. Not that either man cared.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” Nate whispered in the mayor's ear, “gonna make you feel so good.”

He sat back again and reapplied some new lube on his hands. Hancock could only watch and wait what would happen.

“Let's keep it nice and simple today,” Nate offered, “We can try other things when you can use both arms.”

That was okay with Hancock, who too pleased with the hint of next times to object. The person of his affection had just practically accepted his confession (albeit by accident) and also promised future sessions of lovemaking (yes he was a closet sap, don't tell). Everything was wonderful and rainbows and kittens and nothing hurt – except his arm. He was about to reply when the human rubbed a warm, lubed-up hand over his semi-hard member – resulting in a very eloquent “Ah!”.

Nate kept his eyes on him as his hand explored his erection; following the sometimes gnarled flesh and ridges of skin. Hancock kept his half-lidded eyes on the hand on him, as if looking away would make it all disappear. He couldn't help himself pushing into the touch and biting back a grunt when the sole survivor touched an extra sensitive spot.

“Don't hold back,” Nate mumbled, “Let me hear you.”

How could Hancock deny such a request? Next time the vault dweller thumb rubbed over his frenulum he arched into the touch with a reverberating groan.

The other hand rubbed over his pubic bone, applying light pressure to keep him from moving. He couldn't remember the last time he was so hard and needy. He wanted desperately to fuck himself into the hand that was now gripping his cock; encircling it in a calloused casing. But Nate was having none of that, holding him back with seeming ease and was working his shaft with agonizingly slow tugs. He could feel how a thumb carefully rubbed the head of his arousal from time to time. So good but not nearly enough. He couldn't move, wasn't in control and somehow that turned him on even more.

“Nate, Nate, love, please.” He eventually begged when it became almost too much. Midnight eyes clouded with need seeking the other man's who was tormenting him so perfectly. He was almost completely hard now – quite a feat for someone with shitty circulation. Pushing against the restraining hand in search of more friction. He wrapped one leg around the Nate's waist, pushing his heel in the small of the human's back – anything to anchor him.

“John, you have no idea how hot you look right now,” Nate husked, “I would love nothing more then to bend you over and have my way with you.”

Hancock could only keen. There was no room for thought. There was only here, now. The heat and friction and this wonderful, amazing human. “Nate,” He somehow managed to murmur, “Fuck, Nate… anything, just… anything. Please.” Who'd thought he would beg? He certainly didn't...

The sole survivor bent forward and kissed him again before mumbling against his skin: “No, I'll save that for another time.”

With those words and while silencing the mayor's moans with kisses Nate pushed his own erection into the hand already gasping the ghoul's cock. The unique texture feeling wonderful already. The arm restraining the mayor moved to lean next to his ribs for support as Nate began to move against him. No longer hampered, Hancock began to give counter-thrusts. He grabbed Nate's wrist with his good hand, to which the sole survivor responded by grabbing said hand and entwining their fingers while leaning heavily on it.

The next few minutes were filled with panting and groaning while they both pushed against each other. The musty bed creaked its protest as it banged against the wall.

“Close, John,” the sole survivor groaned ans he continued to push into his own hand, savoring the feeling, “you feel so good. Are you close?”

“Just, just keep going,” Hancock panted in response, “Little tighter, getting there, just...”

Nate did as asked and firmed his grasp until it was almost painful. He tried to keep up as long as possible. But it was too good. The feeling and the sounds that he wrung from the ghoul – it was too much. As he came in his hand, shuddering – coating it, their cocks and the mayor's stomach with his seed – he panted John's name, pushing his forehead against the other man's.

“Almost, almost,” Hancock gasped.

Nate kept fucking through his orgasm, getting almost over-sensitized but wanting to make his lover come as well.

“'Cmon John, 'cmon love,” Nate panted.

As he reached his peak, Hancock could swear all his muscles seized. He came groaning and slack-jawed; pleasure racing though his ravaged body as Nate whispered encouragements. He spilled his seed in dribbling splurts, making everything even messier. He made some last rolls with his hips to chase the remnants of that mind-blowing pleasure. Then, he collapsed. Sated, happy.

They stayed just like that for a minute or so. Just breathing against each other.

Eventually, Nate carefully released his hand; which caused both men to groan at the feeling. Then the sole survivor got up and walked towards his bathroom. Hancock watched him leave languidly, simply waiting to see what his lover was up too. It was a long time ago that he felt so… good, content. Not even the chems made him feel this good (though they came close, mind you). His entire body hummed pleasantly with the aftermath of their coupling. He was getting sleepy from the exertion.

The sole survivor came back with a rag and a small basin of water. He'd already cleaned himself up. Hancock made to reach for the rag but Nate held it out of reach.

“Let me clean you.”

Hancock blinked slowly. “You don't have to...”

“But I want to.”

“Oh… Okay.” Maybe he would've said something smartass if this was any other place and time but as it stood he was too tired, sated and blissed-out to even try.

Nate sat down between his legs again and began to clean him. It was kinda nice to be cared for like that. Who was he kidding? It was really nice. Made him feel all tingly with butterflies and made him grin like a loon. When the vault dweller started to clean his softening cock he hissed a little as he was really over-sensitive.  
When Nate was done, he plopped the basin and the rag aside and manipulated the ghoul in such a way that he ended up under the blanket. Nate shuffled in on his uninjured side and draped himself half over the mayor.

“That was nice, huh?” He asked as he snuggled closer.

Hancock yawned. “That was fucking amazing...”

“Told you.”

“You're going to be annoyingly smug about this, aren't you?”

He felt Nate grin against his skin. “Maybe a little.”

“Whatever,” Hancock muttered, enjoying the warmth and smell of his partner, “Night, love.”

“Night...”

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

In the house next door, a certain synth was running his third diagnostics scan because his systems were running way too hot.

 


End file.
